July 6, 2008
When announcing the world premier of 50 ways to leave your lover, the Bush Theatre invited people to turn their heartbreak into a curtain-raiser by submitting their own experiences of break ups which the writers might use to an ‘online forum’. Seeing it, my heart sank. I wasn’t sure what I’d find clicking on the link. But when I did, I was relieved to see only two such stories - including one by a third party - and a poem, Seven ways to leave your lover by Jo Colley, from her collection Weeping for the lovely Phantoms. Reading it my expectations lifted… slightly!
I should have had more faith. The show starts with a number of one-liners followed by a monologue from a modern-day Rosaline, the woman whose own experience of being dumped casts dark shadows over Romeo’s status as a romantic martyr. While that latter may be dead she’s a woman very much alive and even after her suitor’s demise not one ready to forgive. Her bitterness kicks the show into action. However the show is not all about being dumped - it is also about dumping, amicable separations, relationships which are over before they start and relationships which survive years, due to the one or both of the couple being unable to make the necessary move.
The format is inevitably one of an anthology, delivered as playlets, dramatic monologues and songs. The mood, which is mainly comic, ranges from bawdy to poignant and the language from prosaic to poetic. The changes in tempo and mood are well timed to keep the audience's interest. However, its main strength is provided by the playwrights (Lucy Kirkwood, Ben Schiffer, Stacey Gregg, Leah Chillery and Ben Ellis) who catch a universal experience in a way which is fresh and without censure, plus the performances of the four actors (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith, Claire Keelin, Ralph Little and Michelle Terry). All four seem to enjoy themselves giving confident, larger than life performances with an energy which never flags.
This is probably not a subject everyone wants to explore. Before the performance started, my partner noted how few men were in the audience and suggested it was because most men would rather have been a hundred miles away. I could almost feel him wriggle in his seat as he mused on this difference between the sexes. Perhaps the best recommendation for the play is that he stopped wriggling, started laughing and continued to do so throughout.
I should have had more faith. The show starts with a number of one-liners followed by a monologue from a modern-day Rosaline, the woman whose own experience of being dumped casts dark shadows over Romeo’s status as a romantic martyr. While that latter may be dead she’s a woman very much alive and even after her suitor’s demise not one ready to forgive. Her bitterness kicks the show into action. However the show is not all about being dumped - it is also about dumping, amicable separations, relationships which are over before they start and relationships which survive years, due to the one or both of the couple being unable to make the necessary move.
The format is inevitably one of an anthology, delivered as playlets, dramatic monologues and songs. The mood, which is mainly comic, ranges from bawdy to poignant and the language from prosaic to poetic. The changes in tempo and mood are well timed to keep the audience's interest. However, its main strength is provided by the playwrights (Lucy Kirkwood, Ben Schiffer, Stacey Gregg, Leah Chillery and Ben Ellis) who catch a universal experience in a way which is fresh and without censure, plus the performances of the four actors (Kobna Holdbrook-Smith, Claire Keelin, Ralph Little and Michelle Terry). All four seem to enjoy themselves giving confident, larger than life performances with an energy which never flags.
This is probably not a subject everyone wants to explore. Before the performance started, my partner noted how few men were in the audience and suggested it was because most men would rather have been a hundred miles away. I could almost feel him wriggle in his seat as he mused on this difference between the sexes. Perhaps the best recommendation for the play is that he stopped wriggling, started laughing and continued to do so throughout.